Tessa skipped lightly from one foot to the other. “Miss Watton says the snow is perfect today. She says if we don’t go now, it will melt and we’ll miss it.”
Wilhelm’s jaw tightened. “Miss Watton,” he said, casting a long look at the governess, “does not bear responsibility for broken limbs.”
Madeline met his gaze without flinching. There it was again, that calm steadiness that unsettled him more than defiance ever could. “I would not suggest it if I believed it unsafe,” she said. “And I will be right beside her.”
Tessa looked between them, then smiled with the quick intelligence of a child who knew when to strike. “Papa can come too,” she said. “To supervise.”
Wilhelm let out a slow breath. Supervising, at least, he could justify. “Very well,” he said. “I will join you. Do try not to charge ahead.”
Madeline’s lips curved, just slightly, as they stepped out into the cold together. The air was sharp and clean, snow crunching beneath their boots. Tessa ran ahead, despite his warning, and laughter spilling freely as she dragged the small wooden sled toward the hill. Wilhelm followed more slowly, his gaze drawn, against his will, to Madeline as she moved.
She walked with purpose, lifting her skirts just enough to keep them dry. She was surefooted and her laughter was quieter than Tessa’s but no less real. There was warmth in her that had nothing to do with hearths or blankets, something that seemed to radiate outward, drawing people in without asking.
“This is quite steep,” Wilhelm said, stopping at the base of the hill.
“That is the point,” Tessa replied.
Madeline glanced at him. “We can begin halfway down,” she offered. “If that would ease your mind, Your Grace.”
He should have agreed. It was sensible. Instead, something stubborn rose in him, something that had nothing to do with safety and everything to do with the way she watched him, waiting to see what he would choose.
“No,” he said. “If we are doing this, we will do it properly.”
Tessa squealed in delight. Madeline’s brows lifted, surprised, and something in her expression softened further, as though she had not expected him to yield so fully.
They trudged the rest of the way up the slope. Then Wilhelm helped Tessa onto the sled, lowering himself to one knee so he could steady the narrow wooden frame as she climbed into place. His gloved hands rested firmly at the sides while she shifted and settled. Little Tessa’s skirts bunched beneath her ina way that would have earned a reprimand indoors but seemed perfectly harmless out here. Snow worked its way into the seams of his gloves almost at once as he continued supporting his daughter. The cold seeped through the leather and bit at his skin, yet he found he did not mind it. His attention was fixed instead on the way his daughter glanced back at him with bright, expectant eyes, trusting him to keep her upright and safe.
When he gave the sled a measured push, she shot forward with a delighted cry. The runners hissed softly against the packed snow as she gathered speed, and he remained standing at the crest of the hill, watching until she reached the bottom without mishap. Her laughter floated back up toward them as she turned and waved enthusiastically, already clamoring for another turn.
Madeline turned to him then, her cheeks flushed from the cold, eyes bright with a warmth that had nothing to do with exertion. “Your turn,” she said, the words light but assured, as though the matter had already been settled.
“I am not sledding,” Wilhelm replied at once, his tone instinctively firm, though it rang hollow even to his own ears.
“Of course you are,” she answered calmly, a faint smile touching her mouth as she met his gaze without hesitation. “You cannot supervise properly if you do not understand the mechanics.”
He stared at her incredulously. “The mechanics?”
She nodded with exaggerated solemnity, as though delivering a principle beyond dispute. “It is only right that you give it a go.”
He knew he ought to deny the request, that dignity alone should have compelled him to stand his ground, yet the refusal never came. Instead, he lowered himself onto the sled stiffly, acutely aware of how absurd he must appear, of how entirely unlike himself this was, and of the fact that Madeline was watching him. He could practically feel her gaze lingering as she stepped behind him to position the sled.
Her hands came to rest briefly on his shoulders to help balance him. Her touch was light but sure, and the contact sent a jolt through him that had nothing to do with the cold or the awkwardness of the situation.
“Ready?” she asked softly, her breath close enough to his ear that he could feel it stir the fine hairs at his nape. She climbed onto the sled behind him and wrapped her legs around his torso.
He nodded once, jaw tight, bracing himself for the descent in more ways than one.
They sailed downward faster than he expected. The sled jolted over uneven ground, snow spraying up around them, and Wilhelm let out a sound he did not recognize as his own. He screamed shrilly and the noise he produced made Tessa clap at the bottom of the hill.
Madeline laughed behind him. While his own noises were slightly embarrassing, her glee was lovely. The sound was rich and unguarded, and when they came to a stop, she was close enough that he could feel her breath heavy on his back.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The world narrowed to sensation: the cold air, the warmth of her, the pounding of his own heart. He forced himself to stand, stepping away too quickly, brushing snow from his coat with unnecessary force.
“Reckless,” he muttered.
Madeline smiled. “Exhilarating.”
